Late Night Interlude
by Eratta
Summary: A little TT-ish piece. A late night interlude set after 'Proving Ground'.


A/N: I decided there's not enough T/T fluff lately (although the small amount that we have is just fabulous), so I sat down one night and just let the romantic imagination roam.  
  
Disclaimer: You want to know what I own? 1) shoes 2) a few articles of clothing 3) hair care products 4) textbooks. That's it.  
  
Archive: Sure, just let me know where you're putting my baby.  
  
Summary: A little T/T interlude after "Proving Ground".  
  
His eyes hurt. Staring at a computer screen for several hours in near darkness can do that to a person. And to make it worse, he couldn't understand a damn thing as far how that contraption generated so much power. There were elements he didn't recognize, too many variables and not enough concrete information. Trip couldn't go any farther by himself. He needed help. More specifically, he needed HER help.  
  
He sat back in his chair, stretching to relieve the ache that thrummed in along his spine. Blue eyes closed to shut out the glare of harsh artificial light, and not for the first time he wished he'd paid more attention in those other science classes. But wishing didn't change any of the facts. He needed T'Pol's help, and he needed it now. Trip sat back up and looked at the comm. She was so over-worked; anyone could see it. Well, maybe everyone except the captain, but he hardly really saw how anyone felt these days. Poor Vulcan, trying to do her own analysis on the prototype weapon, piece together charts and restore the all-mighty databases while still acting as first officer, science officer, and therapist to one particular engineer. No wonder he hadn't seen much of her lately.  
  
Trip sighed and shook his head. He hated to do it, but he had to. He just prayed she wasn't in bed yet.  
  
"Tucker to T'Pol."  
  
There was a short silence; enough of one to convince Trip that she had been sleeping.  
  
"Yes, Commander?"  
  
Trip grimaced. "I'm real sorry ta wake you, T'Pol, but I could use your help."  
  
Another silence was the response to his request. Trip braced himself; he might well be in for one of her famous verbal ass-kickings.  
  
"Commander," she began "It is now 0216 hours. We are both on duty in less than five hours. I'm sure that whatever it is can wait."  
  
"Normally I'd agree with ya, but."  
  
"But what Commander?" Damn, he thought. She was getting irritated now. Best to get out now before she really got mad. She needed her sleep anyway, he reasoned with himself.  
  
"Nothin'. Sorry I disturbed you. Good night SubCommander." He lied. He closed the link and turned back to his monitor. Maybe she's right, the rational part of his mind suggested. But he pushed that voice aside I favor of the other one, the one that kept reminding him that every second wasted gave the Xindi more time to perfect the real weapon. And he'd be damned if he was going to give them an opportunity.  
  
The soft sound of his door chime echoed through his quarters, and he knew there was only one person that would be making a house call at this hour of the night. He stood and walked to the door, opened it, and sure enough there she stood. Wrapped up tightly in her satiny blue robe with her arms crossed, she waited to be let in.  
  
"I told you, it was nothing." Trip reminded her, keeping his voice soft. Somehow, he was sure that the news of T'Pol showing up at his door at two in the morning dressed in a robe would feed the rumor mill for at least a few months.  
  
Her non-expression didn't change, and Trip couldn't help but notice how sexy she looked. Her hair was tousled and those gorgeous eyes, while often intimidating in their intensity, were half closed in weariness. If those weren't Vulcan bedroom eyes, Trip was pretty sure they didn't have them. But of course, nothing could dull the razor-sharpness of her mind.  
  
"You would not have woken me if it was not important. Are you going to let me in so I can help you or shall I simply remain in the corridor?"  
  
Trip stifled a chuckle and moved aside, sweeping his hand into the room before her. She entered it, her stride purposeful as though to underscore the fact that this was a professional meeting, despite all other indications. She took a seat at his desk like she owned the place, and perused the data readout.  
  
"What exactly is the problem?" She inquired.  
  
Trip rested on hand on the back of the chair and placed to other one flat on the table, which brought his mouth just above her ear as he leaned over her shoulder.  
  
"I was tryin' to calculate the exact power output of the prototype, but there are too many unknowns. I don't have the science background ta divine any information from these elements here." He pointed to a list on the screen.  
  
T'Pol was silent, still reading through the equations and lists of data. Finally, she gave a little huff of a sigh. "Without the proper facilities it could take some time to provide you with the information you want, if it is even possible to calculate. Unfortunately I don't have much left to spare at the moment."  
  
She half turned in the chair and looked at him, her gaze apologetic. Trip gave her a gentle smile.  
  
"I know; we're all pullin' at least double right now. I just thought maybe that superior Vulcan intellect of yers might be able ta give me somethin' to work with."  
  
"I'm sorry Commander, but there is only so much I can do." She rose and re- tightened the belt of her robe. She walked towards the door, but then turned back.  
  
"Send what you have to my quarters. I can't promise anything, but I'll look into it if I have a spare moment. In the meantime, I suggest you get some sleep."  
  
He snorted. "That could be a little tough. When I get a problem like this, it drives me crazy until I solve it." At her too-blank expression he added, "I know, totally illogical right?"  
  
T'Pol chose not to reply to that question, and simply re-stated, "You need to rest, Commander. I don't spend three nights a week with you so you can worry over something that you can't change."  
  
Trip smiled and nodded ruefully, and T'Pol left his quarters. He did as she asked, and then went to bed. As the warm cloudiness of sleep spread through his brain, he thanked all the stars in heaven for that tiny woman with pointed ears and her skilled hands. Crazy or no, he could always appreciate a good night's sleep.  
  
The following morning, Trip awoke and glanced towards the chronometer situated on his desk. But his attention was instead drawn to the blinking light on his computer monitor. He had a message. Throwing off the covers and ambling over to that corner of the room, he yawned as the message came up. It was from T'Pol, and it was simple, just two words.  
  
"You're welcome."  
  
Trip was confused for a moment, but then saw the attached section of files lining up on the side of the monitor. A slow grin spread over his face, and all he could do was shake his head. She would never cease to surprise him.  
  
FIN  
  
A/N Continued: Yes, that really is the end. This was a VIGNETTE, nothing more. Don't even think about asking for a continuation or a sequel. I just needed to satisfy my muse. 


End file.
